


Control

by roane



Series: Fire and Ice [2]
Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Dom!Luke, First Time, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Intercrural Sex, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mentions of Accidental Incest, Mentions of Luke/Leia, Multi, Open Relationships, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 17:41:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6916966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roane/pseuds/roane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke comes back from a disastrous mission, and finds comfort in an unexpected way, from an unexpected source.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Control

**Author's Note:**

> Follows the events of Natural Leadership, but is entirely standalone. I'm playing fast and loose with canon and the timeline here, mostly because I like the idea of Hoth being a proverbial hotbed of sexual activity. ;)

The mission had been a disaster. Rogue Squadron had lost two pilots, a third of the squadron, just… gone in a heartbeat. And to make matters worse, they hadn’t even managed to get the freighter they were escorting through the Empire’s blockade around Lothal, which meant people were still going without food and medical supplies down there. 

Wedge, Zev, and Hobbie were barely holding it together as they limped back to base, and Luke did his best to keep morale up, despite his own grief and frustration. He was already figuring out what to tell the families in his condolence messages, and—as much as he hated it—already trying to figure out who should replace the pilots he’d lost.

Not for the first time, he wished they were going to a more welcoming home base than Hoth. And he wished Leia would be there when they arrived. She’d welcomed him home from more than one bad mission with the distraction of her kisses and her body (and he’d done the same for her). They didn’t talk about it, they didn’t have any sort of formalized understanding—it just was what it was, and he loved her for it. Neither of them were in any place to make any sort of commitment, and besides, there was the unspoken question between them about Han.

The question was: how long were the three of them going to dance around the attraction between them? As far as he knew, Han hadn’t approached Leia at all, but was content to snipe at her like a lovesick kid. And all that had passed between him and Luke were a few intense glances—enough for Luke to get the point.

Sooner or later someone was going to snap; it was just a question of who, when, and how much fallout there’d be. 

And none of that was helping get the remains of Rogue Squadron home, Luke reminded himself sternly. 

Once they’d safely landed in Hoth’s icy hangar bay, Luke could start the real damage control with his remaining pilots. Wedge was taking it the hardest; the stoic, blank look on his face meant he was so tightly wound he was about to break. Experience told Luke that after a few drinks, the facade would crack and Wedge would let go a little bit. As the four of them stood together in the hangar bay—resolutely not looking at the empty spaces where two X-wings should be—Luke did his best to radiate some sort of peace from his mind to theirs, letting it wash over them, enough that they could find their own solace. None of them would appreciate him hovering, as much as he wanted to. Loss was a part of their lives, and it never got any easier. 

The four of them parted ways, each of them embracing hard and quick. Luke sent them off with what strength he could muster, although it left him drained. So much of his life was out of his control these days—ironic, given that he was the one who had to maintain at least the appearance of control at all times.

With Leia off-planet, the only thing that would help right now was as much sleep as he could manage. By the time he crawled out of his flight suit, he was practically staggering back to his quarters. Tomorrow there would be debriefings and paperwork and condolence messages, but not now. 

His plans for rest, along with some of his fatigue, dissolved when he opened the door to his quarters. “Han?” He managed a smile, “What, did you con Artoo into letting you in?” His smile faded when he got a closer look at Han’s folded arms and stormy expression. “What’s wrong?”

“What the hell are you doing, kid? Are you _trying_ to get yourself killed?” Han unfolded his arms and stalked forward, one finger out and jabbing at Luke. “You think the Alliance needs another fucking _martyr_?” On “martyr” his finger hit Luke squarely in the chest. 

Luke shoved his hair off his forehead, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “Hang on. Back up a minute. What did I do this time?”

“Lothal. How the hell did you think a single squadron could get past that blockade? You could have at least told me about it, let the _Falcon_ run interference, but no, you had to run off on your own. Somebody’s gonna get killed.”

His words stopped Luke cold. He didn’t know, hadn’t heard the news about Rogue Squadron, but that wasn’t going to keep Luke’s temper in check. “Han, this isn’t a good time for this.” 

“No, damn it, we’re going to talk this out.” Han glared down at him, crowding into his space. “You keep volunteering for suicide missions. What’s with the death wish? Come on, tell me. What are you gonna do if your reckless ass gets somebody beside you killed?”

Luke could still feel the two dead pilots in his mind: a flash of fear, a flash of pain, and then nothing. His fault. He should have stopped it. Before he could think, he shoved Han out of his space, sending him back into the ice wall. “I said not now.” 

“Answer me, Luke. What if someone else dies?”

“Someone else did!” Luke didn’t mean to yell. “I lost two pilots out there today. We failed. Is that what you wanted to hear?” His turn to step forward, getting up into Han’s face as much as his height would allow. It was shamefully gratifying to watch Han’s face resolve into horror. “You think you coulda stopped it if you’d been there? You think you’re fucking _immortal_ in that ship, but you’re not. I could’ve lost you just as easy.”

“Luke, I’m sorry—”

“I can’t keep anybody safe, and you can’t either, so just stop—” He cut himself off, starting to turn away. Despair threatened, the burning awareness that everything he cared about could vanish at nothing more than the Emperor’s whim. Luke looked back at Han and felt the click in his head, the one that said _oh to hell with it_. He grabbed Han’s face in his hands, yanking him down to kiss him hard. Instantly, he thought it was a mistake, and let go, his cheeks flaming hot. Before he could say anything, Han’s arm snaked around his waist and pulled him back in, his mouth coming down for a fierce kiss in return. 

Luke’s anger hadn’t quite burned itself out, but it warred with a spark of desire growing in the pit of his belly. He wrapped one hand around the back of Han’s neck and took back control of the kiss, pressing him into the wall with his body. 

For all that they weren’t exclusive, it had been a while since Luke had kissed anyone except Leia, and he’d forgotten about the feel of stubble against his chin, or the stretch in his neck to kiss someone taller. He’d forgotten the novel heat of an unfamiliar body against his, an unfamiliar tongue in his mouth.

Maybe part of it was the anger that lingered, maybe it was about how out of control he’d felt since Rogue Squadron had left Lothal, but Luke caught both of Han’s hands in his and pressed them back to the wall. He expected a struggle, and planned to let go if he got one. Instead, Han sagged back against the wall, bringing him a little closer to Luke’s height. Tentatively, Luke drew his hands away, using a little bit of concentration to keep Han’s hands where he wanted them. When Han realized what he’d done, he broke the kiss long enough to groan weakly.

“Damn. Is _this_ what you and the princess get up to, kid?” He grinned, but his voice was breathy. “If I’d known that I’d’ve pushed you into kissing me sooner.”

“You know about me and Leia?” Luke let Han go and started to step back, but Han caught him around the waist again. 

“Not for sure, not until you just confirmed it.” Han’s grin widened and he leaned in and stole a kiss. “Come on, Luke, anybody with eyes can see how you two look at each other, and don’t think you’re fooling anybody, disappearing at the same time the way you do.”

Luke’s face felt like it was on fire. “I should have said something before I kissed you—”

“I kinda got the message that both of you were free agents. Pilots’re gossipier than a bunch of old women.” Han pulled him in closer, tucking his feet between Luke’s. “Figured you might work your way around to me sooner or later.”

“It’s not—I don’t—”

Han laughed and took pity on him. “Hey, Hero of the Rebellion. You sowed a few oats. Who wouldn’t’ve?” 

“Not anymore.” With rank came privileges, but also a responsibility to not mess around with the chain of command.

“Yeah, I noticed. You went and got all respectable, _Commander_ Skywalker.” He raised an eyebrow. “Although apparently not _that_ respectable. You didn’t answer my question.”

“If you think I’m going to answer any questions about Leia you really do think I have a death wish.”

“What if I asked questions about you?” Han leaned in and kissed his way along Luke’s jaw to his ear. “You were awful quick to pin me down. Anything I need to know?”

Was there?

True, he’d gotten more comfortable with and even enjoyed giving Leia what she sometimes seemed to need—a chance to let go and turn off her thoughts, hand control to someone else—but he hadn’t thought of it yet in terms of what he wanted.

With Han, there _was_ something there—something that made him want to prove himself somehow. To—there was no other way to describe it—to take Han down a peg or two. He settled on a sly smile and, “Maybe.”

It wasn’t the answer Han was expecting, clearly, and Luke was rewarded with the feel of a shiver running down Han’s body. “Uh-huh. I bet you’re all talk.”

Luke knew a challenge when he heard one. He studied Han, considering how to respond.

“Yep, I knew it,” Han gloated. “You were never gonna—”

Lightning-quick, Luke caught Han’s jaw in his hand and pressed him back against the wall again. He was already straddling Han’s feet; it was an easy thing to step in closer, and Han was already nearer his height. He watched Han’s eyes as he slowly moved in to kiss him, his gaze flickering over Han’s every microexpression. Luke had caught Han by surprise, but surprised or no, he still wasn’t quite taking Luke seriously.

Luke kissed him slowly at first, teasing his way into Han’s mouth, his tongue seeking the wet warmth, the foreign taste. Meanwhile he repinned Han’s wrists, lifting them higher above Han’s head than Luke would be able to reach on his own. Just that little show of power drew a quiet moan from Han’s mouth into Luke’s. 

Of course, Han wasn’t going to give in that easily, and Luke felt him testing the bond that held him even while kissed Luke back with a hungry volley of licks and teasing bites. 

“You’re not gonna get free until I let you go,” Luke murmured in Han’s ear, unable to keep the grin from his face. He couldn’t keep his hands off Han’s body either, pushing open his jacket and tugging at his shirt. He could feel Han’s heart racing, feel the growing erection pressing against his hip. 

There was a tiny part of him that was aghast at himself, that sense of dancing on the edge of something frightening. At the same time, he knew if he was safe anywhere, it was right here. Safer in some ways, even, than with Leia. This was just play, and both of them knew it. 

Luke stepped back and took in Han’s tousled hair, the flush in his cheeks. His lips were a little swollen from kisses, and Luke knew his own were as well. He also knew that was something he could play with, and bit his lower lip as he watched Han, looking up at him through his lashes. What Leia kept calling his “shy farmboy act.” Most of the time it wasn’t an act, but this time… 

It was worth it to watch Han mutter and thump his head back against the icy wall. “Kid, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

Again Luke found himself fighting a grin, so he ducked his head to hide it, and focused his attention on unbuckling Han’s ever-present gun belt. Han’s squirming took on a new urgency when Luke moved to unfastening his pants. Luke stole a look at Han to get a read on him and saw those always-changing eyes riveted to Luke’s hands, wide and dark, his breathing shallow.

“Okay?” Luke thought he knew the answer, but had to ask anyway.

“I can’t even tell you how okay.” Han didn’t raise his eyes, watching as Luke went back to unfastening his pants. Luke interrupted him only to kiss him again, using the distraction to slip his hand inside Han’s pants, running his palm up the length of Han’s cock. Han _slumped_ against the bond Luke had him in, cursing softly under his breath.

There was only one way to finish taking off Han’s pants without letting his hands go, and Luke felt a wicked grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. Keeping his eyes on Han’s, he went to his knees on the cold floor, tugging down Han’s pants as he went. Han’s eyes widened as Luke reached eye-level with his cock, but Luke focused his attention on pulling off Han’s boots instead, ignoring the erection bobbing dangerously close to his face. 

Luke had lost a lot of naivete over the past couple years, and he knew now exactly what potential partners saw when they looked at his baby face and slight frame. So, kneeling in front of Han, he’d have known what Han was thinking even without the Force. He wasn’t above playing with those expectations. While he busied himself pulling off the second boot, he looked up, his lips slightly parted—and watched Han try to _strain_ toward his mouth as he stayed just out of reach. It was another little rush of power, amplified by the fact that he was _on his knees_ , but he was still the one in charge. 

Once Han’s boots were off, Luke tugged away his pants and tossed them aside. He ran his hands up Han’s legs as he stood, palms dragging over the goosepimpled skin.

“Tease,” Han growled. 

“Am I?” Luke blinked innocently before curling his fingers around Han’s cock, earning him a gasp. Han leaned in and Luke let him kiss him, dirty and wet and desperate. It made Luke’s knees start to go weak. The hardest part about playing this game was keeping a handle on his own desire well enough to focus on the other person’s. His belly was in a nervous knot, his heart thumping erratically as he wrapped his free hand around the back of Han’s neck. Part of him wanted nothing more than to strip them both naked and pull Han to the bed—but he had the distinct sense that Han would be a little disappointed if Luke stopped now.

Instead he let go of Han long enough to strip out of his own pants and boots, acutely aware of being watched, but too eager to make a show of it. He stepped between Han’s feet, kicking them a little farther apart to make room. It was enough to align their hips, so when Luke put his arms around Han’s waist, their cocks brushed together, caught between their bodies.

Kissing Han was a power struggle in its own right, but Luke had the upper hand just by virtue of being able to _use_ his hands, running them up under Han’s shirt, shamelessly moving down to grope his ass. Before long, Han was grinding against him, desperate for more than Luke was giving him. Han’s desperation washed through Luke like a drug, and he was seized with the urge to see just how far he could push it, how much Han would take. 

He stepped back and stripped off his shirt, ignoring the chill in the air. Han’s would have to wait until Luke decided to release him from the wall. He stood apart for just a moment, looking Han up and down and considering. Of course, that gave Han the chance to watch him as well, and Luke could almost feel his gaze burning over his skin. 

“Are you just gonna leave me hanging here?” Han’s voice was low; it rumbled around Luke’s insides and made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

“I could. Maybe I should.” Luke folded his arms as if he were considering it, never mind that both of them were hard and aching. His control was slipping by the minute. 

“Luke, c’mon.” 

There was enough of a pleading edge to Han’s voice now that Luke couldn’t hide his smile. He let go of Han’s wrists so fast that Han stumbled away from the wall. Han reached for him, but Luke shook his head. He wasn’t finished yet—and he was curious to see if Han would listen to him. 

“Kneel.” A jolt of need shot up Luke’s spine; he was equal parts pleased and aghast at himself, that this was turning into something that he enjoyed, the faintest hint of fear in the back of his mind. _It’s not the same thing. Leia wants me to do it, and with Han… we’re not serious, neither of us._

The fear faded when Han raised an eyebrow, then obeyed. “You’re just full of surprises.” 

Luke stepped forward, dragging the back of his fingers down Han’s cheek. “From the looks of things, you don’t mind.”

“I don’t, I really really don’t.” Han turned his head to kiss Luke’s hand, then caught that hand in his. “Would’ve gotten on my knees for you a long time ago if you’d asked.” Then to prove his point, Han turned Luke’s hand over in his and took one finger slowly into his mouth, the meaning unmistakable. Luke bit his lips to try and stifle the moan as the pleasure rolled up his arm down the rest of his body. 

From there Luke stopped trying to give orders—for now. Each caress of Han’s tongue on his finger seemed to travel directly to his cock, and his interest in being in control was waning rapidly. The moment his eyes slipped closed, Han let go of his hand and pulled Luke in by his hips. Before Luke could say anything, Han ran his tongue up the length of Luke’s cock, and Luke forgot how to breathe. 

He reached blindly for Han’s shoulder, the dampness on his finger from Han’s mouth turning icy cold in the ambient chill. He didn’t realize he was swaying until Han steadied him, his hands on Luke’s hips. Then the heat of Han’s mouth engulfed him like wet fire and Luke thought his knees would buckle. He opened his eyes and looked down to see his cock sliding between Han’s lips, Han’s face taut and his eyes closed with pleasure.

Rising tension coiled in the pit of Luke’s belly, the frustration of it making him groan aloud somewhere between bliss and agony. He didn’t know how long he’d be able to stay on his feet, but he sure as hell didn’t want to move either. He twined his fingers in Han’s hair, running his hands roughly over and through it. The world had narrowed down to this small space where he stood, where Han knelt in front of him, his mouth doing wicked, sweet things to him. 

Finally it was a question of sit down or fall down. “I can’t—I have to—” Luke stumbled backward toward his bed, whimpering as he lost contact with Han’s mouth for a few precious seconds. Han followed after him though, and the moment Luke was sitting, Han was on him again, burying his face against Luke’s thighs before his head bobbed up and down again. 

Luke could never keep quiet when something felt this good, and now was no exception. He cradled Han’s head in his hands as he moaned and whimpered with his head thrown back, fighting the urge to thrust against Han’s mouth. The wet slurping sound was deliciously obscene, enough to make his toes curl. He never wanted it to stop, but…

“Han… I’m close.” A surge of pleasure rolled through him, cutting his words off with a groan. “Really close.”

Han pulled off him and Luke whimpered a little with disappointment, but Han rose up on his knees and pulled Luke into a kiss with one hand, while his other took over stroking. The faint taste of himself on Han’s mouth sent a shiver through Luke. He gave in and thrust against Han’s grip around him, his hips rising and falling faster and faster until the fire in his belly blossomed outwards, burning through him, pouring from him: from his mouth in loud cries, from his cock as he spilled over Han’s fingers.

Han licked and bit at his throat while he came, murmuring something Luke couldn’t quite hear.

When Luke could breathe again, Han let him go long enough to tug his shirt over his head before nudging and pushing Luke under the covers of the bed and following after him. Luke didn’t protest, still limp and loose and half-dazed. Han settled over him, pinning him to the bed with the weight of his body. Luke was too content to let him, his skin warming as Han kissed him slowly and deeply. 

“You done yelling the walls down?” Han teased. He shifted his weight over Luke, and his cock slipped between Luke’s thighs. 

“Why, is it your turn now?” It was, if Luke had anything to say about it. 

Han rocked his hips against Luke, his cock dragging slow and slick against Luke’s skin. Luke squeezed his thighs together and met Han’s slow thrusts, savoring the teasing pressure along the underside of his sac. 

“Keep that up and yeah, it is.” Han pressed his forehead to Luke’s closing his eyes as he arched against him, his breath coming in soft gasps. He opened his eyes again and met Luke’s eyes. “You feel so good. You got any idea how long I’ve wanted this?”

“I’d say at least an hour.” Luke didn’t even try to fight the grin that wanted to form, to hide the elation rising at the sight of Han falling apart.

“Nice.” Han laughed breathlessly, his rhythm speeding up. “Mos Eisley. Minute you sat down at the table.”

That caught Luke off-guard. 

“So just imagine,” Han leaned in and buried his face against Luke’s neck, murmuring his words there, “just imagine how good it feels to finally fuck you.” 

Luke moaned in his ear, a little bit for show, to make him even hotter. He bit Han’s earlobe. “Then fuck me.”

Han shuddered in his arms, driving his hips forward almost in a frenzy now. Luke held on to him, listening to Han’s cries spiral up until he finally stiffened against Luke with one sharp cry before collapsing on top of him.

They lay together panting, nuzzling at each other. Luke never would have guessed that Han was a cuddler. Eventually the wet spot beneath him got too uncomfortable, so he rolled them off to the side, sprawling against Han’s chest. “Minute you saw me, huh?”

“No, cause the first time I saw you you were getting knocked on your ass,” Han laughed. “Wasn’t till I saw your eyes, then when you got bitchy about being a pilot.”

It was ages ago, but it was like yesterday too. Luke wrinkled his nose at the memory of how clueless he’d been then.

They were quiet for a long moment, their breathing deepening and falling into sync. “Luke?” Han finally said, his voice soft.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry about your team. I didn’t know. I never would have—”

“I know.” The hurt was still there, but it was duller now, soothed away by Han’s nearness and the heat of his body. 

“You okay, kid?” Han pulled back to look him in the face. 

“I’m better now.” Some better, at least. It would be a long time before he was entirely better. 

“So… you gonna tell the princess about this?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Luke’s exhaustion was catching up to him, and he closed his eyes.

“Think you could put in a good word for me?”

If Luke’s eyes had been open, he would have rolled them at Han. “You know, you could try talking to her, instead of pulling her braids.”

“That easy, huh?” Han kissed the top of his head and chuckled. “Talking. Maybe I’ll do that.”

Luke didn’t believe that for a minute, but the thought made him smile. Han and Leia—that thought made him smile too, trying to imagine a galaxy where the two of them stopped fighting long enough to kiss, much less anything else. 

The next couple months were going to be entertaining, at the very least.


End file.
